The Singing Towers of Darillium
by Truedarkhunter
Summary: This story is the one mentioned by River Song as she spoke to the 10th Doctor in Silence in the Library/Forests of the Dead but actually takes place with the 11th Doctor at the time of the short feature "Last Night" with a bit of reference to "First Night". It may seem to wax poetic about River Song, but that is only the surface. It's actually tale of what it is to love a mortal.


The Singing Towers of Darillium

I was going on a date. So why did it feel like I was walking to the gallows? Have you ever had a sick child that you knew was going to die? And you find yourself a recipient of one of those gifts from a foundation that lets little kids live out their dreams for a day. You are trying _so hard_ to be brave for them, to have fun for them, but in the back of your mind you are wailing and raging and begging for more time. But there isn't any more time. This is it. The last wonderful days of a life that burns so bright that you can't believe the world, no the whole universe, can go on without that amazing star that sits at the center of your life. Have you ever been there? That's how I'm feeling right now.

But it's not a child that I'm going to see; it's my wife. And unlike most people, I really do know exactly how many days are left, how many minutes, seconds, even nanoseconds. That's because I'm a Time Lord and I can race through the future and the past. But for all my skill, my clever brain, and my power, I can't stop this moment from happening.

And I was begged not to.

And it's killing me.

I'm dressed up in my best black tux, white button down shirt, white tie, and the tall top hat that I think looks smashing on me, but probably fit better sometime in my past –or my future. It's the outfit my wife, River, nearly killed me in, and I feel like I'm dying inside right now. It's my little nod to the fact that it's all ending. She's always said that I'll be the death of her and she's right about that. I just didn't know that a part of me would be dying with her.

I've left the parking brake for the TARDIS on today on purpose. I want her to hear me coming, to have those extra seconds of anticipation, it's like Christmas morning, it's like going to Disney World, it's like falling in love all over again. Just for a moment.

And I'm standing near the door, straightening lapels that don't need straightening, touching my pocket to make sure my screwdriver is there, altered and ready to go. Can't forget that. No, mustn't forget that.

The handcuffs are in there, too, but enough about that.

Wherever she goes, that little beacon will light the way. It's all I really have that I can give her, Dumbo's feather, but it's all of me. And it will open every door she needs on her last journey. I hold onto the fact that I'll get to see her one last time before the end. Only I won't know her then, but I remember every nova star ember of that day right now and always. It's bursting in my hearts right now, this woman who knew me in ways I never expected, never dreamed of having, of sharing, since my home planet of Gallifrey was destroyed. I am the LAST of my kind. I had resigned myself to the fact that I'd never know love.

Oh there was Rose, oh yes. But she was human and I'm a Time Lord. Her life is a blip compared to mine. But my hearts betrayed me then and I loved her anyway. I wished I could be human just for her, and when you're a mad man with a box, sometimes things happen. I made a human version of myself to live that life with her that I couldn't and sealed them both away in a parallel universe. Still think you'd want my life? Sometimes I dream of peeking in on them and seeing how life would be. But what if I saw her crying in the night because all she got was a carbon copy of me instead of the real thing? That'd just tear me up all over again. So I don't even try. Better to dream than to know. And a carbon copy is all I'll have left of River when it's all done. Oh, the Universe does love its irony.

The doors open and there she is. Those glorious masses of sandy curls, reminding me of the beaches of the many worlds I've taken her to, and of so many dangerous moments in our past. Those curls that I just want to bury my hands in and then pull her to me tightly. But I can't. I'm the Doctor. I'm the cool guy with a fez most of the time. And she's River Song. I do that and she'll know something is wrong. We have to play out this little dance, the one that I don't even know all the steps to myself.

"Well hello there, Sweetie," she calls to me, her green eyes flashing with devilish anticipation. And my hearts turn over in my chest and one of them promptly melts while the other plays a fast staccato beat. Whatever else I am, I'm still a man. And River is my wife.

No, that's so small a word, it doesn't begin to encapsulate her. I bite my lip some as I try to focus. Here she is, the woman who tried to kill me, who gave up her life to me, not even metaphorically. She was conceived on the TARDIS by parents who had been traveling through time, space, and other dimensions. One had even been erased and brought back. All that led to her being born part Time Lord. She could regenerate. But she tried to kill me; she had no choice in the matter. She's also the one who saved me, pouring all her remaining lifetimes into me to save me. If she saved even one, this wouldn't be goodbye, but River never gives of herself in halves or short measures. It's always all of her, every second, my bright shining star.

And then she went into a cell for it, serving twelve thousand life sentences. Locked away in a little box even though I wasn't really dead, well, not anymore. It gets complicated. But she did it for me without complaint. At night I would come and whisk her away on dates, enjoying the thrill of freeing her from that prison, but I always dropped her off again. Why? It's selfishness. I, too, spend time trapped in my little box, nowhere else to go even though it all lies outside my door–everything but home that is.

But I finally realized that selfishness was exactly what it was and when I got the chance I helped her clear her name. I told her to go ask her jailors what crime it was that she had committed. She gave me such a queer little look of suspicion; it was all I could do to keep from laughing! You see, I got myself erased from every database in the known universe. So they really couldn't hold her. She could have railed at me for not coming up with it sooner. She could have hated me for sending her back there time and again. She didn't. She just smiled that devilish, promising smile and reveled in each second of our time together. No, I couldn't ask for someone better. She's practically fearless. And she loves me, heart and soul. That's why I forgive her anything and everything. I could never ask of a partner what she gives me. And she does it willingly, unreservedly. Most of all, she's a gift to me. A lonely life interrupted unexpectedly, without warning, with the promise of more, so very much more. I could barely process the entirety of the ramifications of it from behind my glasses, well, back when I wore glasses.

I let my gaze travel up and down her as all this passes through my mind. My brain works very fast and covers a lot of ground in a short period of time. One side appreciates her beauty and presence while another is taking mental snapshots to remember her by while a third is already contemplating the next step of the evening.

"Hello, River," I reply. "Happy Birthday."

"Well look at you, new haircut, new suit, I like it," she says with a little toss of her head. And she leans in to kiss me and I'm ready to meet it, her scent washing over me, her lips like flames on mine. My hearts rise as I gaze into her eyes, if it is our last night, I'll be damned if it won't be our best.

Stepping back a bit, I gesture in invitation towards the TARDIS. "I thought you might like to change, we're going to see the Singing Towers of Darillium."

Her eyes light up, "Oooh, you've been promising to take me there for ages." Then she sees the dress I have laid out for her. "Really? That thing, again? Well, I guess I'll humor you this time, only because you're finally keeping your promise. Don't blame me if some poor fool falls for me in that thing. Or if I fall out of it, that neckline is really daring, Sweetie."

I smirk a bit, despite myself, "I'll take my chances. Besides, I don't expect you'll be in it ALL night." That does it. She snags it with a saucy swish of her hips casting a backwards glance over her shoulder to make sure I'm watching, and I am. Oh yes, I am.

She's not dead yet, and neither am I. I've seen plenty of death and I've had to keep going on, keep running, searching, never knowing what I might find. But I never expected to find her. River is the reward I didn't deserve, and the punishment I did. She's the perfect companion for me, a woman who can handle all of who I am and not flinch.

I even used her to help myself out in tight spots in the past, sending her back to make my life easier in my different regenerations. Or so I told her. It was a lie, well, only partly a lie. She did help me, but it gave me a chance to show her all of me and let all of me experience her. It's a strange thing to want to shout your love from the rooftops, not to the world, but to yourself.

She's seen all of me. Mind you, River didn't like all of me, but I didn't expect that. I just wanted her to truly know me inside and out. How could I do less? I knew her as a baby, as a frightened little girl, as a teenager growing up with her own parents, yeah, don't ask, and finally turning into the woman who would be my wife and assassin. But I'm hers as well, so I can't hold it against her. And she's my wife. I never dreamed I'd have that, never in my hundreds of years of life. And I'd have gone through worse for her.

And tonight I am. I'm giving her the last gift that I can. While I still remember all of her and all of us, I'm going to rise to the occasion and show her the best night of her life–the last night of our life together.

"What are you thinking about?" Her voice floated down to me from the stairs of the control room.

"Just you, River, just you," I reply, hoping my expression hadn't given anything away. You have to be on your toes around River Song and here I am distracted. She shrugs, and we go out to see the starry sky first on Calderon Beta.

We picnic at the base of the tree while the other version of us will soon be arriving to gaze at the stars from the top. We sync up our diaries, but I already know when we are for once. I'm taking some risks here, but nothing I haven't done before, I already know.

So I let River go on ahead of me a bit and count under my breath to make sure the timing is right, odd thing about being a Time Lord, timing is still everything. I pull her out of the wrong TARDIS as she comments about the possibilities of entertaining two versions of me. She heads back to the right one mentioning where we are going to my younger self. As I pause, looking at the me I was back then, all of our married life yet to come, I see his smile falter. The pain of the knowledge we both share shatters his happiness in the moment. He looks at me and mentions as casually as he can that when we first met River at the largest library in the universe, she said the last time she saw us was at Darillium and asks if that is now.

I only say, "spoilers" which is the answer I received myself when I stood where he is now. The pain I feel tonight crosses his face, tainting the excitement of his first date with River with the knowledge of his last one. And I walk away. The Towers await.

I rejoin River in my TARDIS and smile for her again as I set the controls to take us to Darillium. She bounces with excitement and says, "Are you quite certain we couldn't stay a bit longer with the two of you? It is my birthday, after all."

"No River, he has things to do and so do we," I admonish, but I can't be upset with her enthusiasm. Myself, I may be a bit narcissistic, but I'm not THAT bad! I chuckle at the thought as the TARDIS touches down on Darillium.

We step out together into the warm glow of the Darillium sun casting its light over the orange-red sands and skyscraper high, smooth sided crystals glowing with all the colors of land and sky.

Sunset comes in about fifteen minutes, and the light of the last rays of the sun will begin to leave the base of the crystalline towers you see before you. At which time, the temperature differential will cause the crystals to cool and as they contract they release beautiful sounding tones and thus, 'sing'," I tell her, launching into one of my grand explanations. It gives me time to think, those little spiels. Makes me look all clever to other people, but speeches like this let me lock into place the other bits so that I can take action as soon as they're done.

"Oooh, sounds marvelous. Will you be taking me dancing afterward?" she asks.

"If you like," I reply, sounding vaguely non-committal.

I take her hand and lead her out. We take the lift on a nearby cliff wall to join the other spectators. Of course I manage to get us a private viewing box with a flash of my psychic paper. People see it and assume I'm some high muckity-muck from wherever the deem important. I usually reserve it for important occasions. Well, okay, that's a lie as well, but I do try not to overdo it. River presses a shoulder into me briefly, amused that I'm abusing my little arsenal of tricks on her behalf.

And I just give her a smile and a genteel nod as we step into the private viewing room. The sun goes down, and the Towers begin to sing. River is so close to me right now, her arms wrapped around my right one, and her head resting gently on my shoulder. She's enraptured by the sight and I take the time to watch her reaction to it all.

Snapshots, every moment precious, drinking them in, making a chain, filling in the senses that film cannot, ensuring the memory of this moment is larger than life itself. I've seen the towers, and I can see them again from a different vantage point or on a different night to add yet more dimensions to the memory, but I can never see it again with her, so my eyes stay fixed on her.

And my hearts overflow with love, and pain, and fear. Yes, fear. You can fear the inevitable. Usually I can face it with aplomb and grace, but not tonight. She glances over at me, and disturbed, her brows knit together. "Sweetie, you're crying." And she lifts her head away from my shoulder to look at me and I don't want her to. Then she lifts a hand to my cheek to brush at the tears, and now I don't want her to stop.

The towers finish their final sweet notes and the glow dies away, leaving dark, clear silhouettes in the night with a thousand billion stars twinkling in the sky above us. "Come on," I say and lead her out. Perhaps my tears have worried her, because she does so without a sharp quip or question.

We arrive in the square below as a myriad of races mill about, heading back to various ships or the nearby hotels and inns to rest. And now I do pull her to me, swiftly, almost fiercely, but I hold myself in check. I cradle her in my arms as if daring anyone or anything to try to steal her from me. I know my gaze is intense as I lean her into a dip; I can see it reflected in her reaction and as I lift her back up, we begin to dance.

I am a very good dancer, if I do say so myself, but tonight the dance is like a battle, a conversation, a foray. My movements are sharp, precise, my muscles straining, not a quiver out of place. And she matches me step for step, a softer grace reflected in her answering motions. A light question asked in each twirl, each turn, and I answer with a delighted and fierce joy. She doesn't understand the reason for the shift in my mood, but ever willing, she joins in. And the few spectators present wander away as we break apart at last and I whisper, "Come with me, River."

"Anywhere, Darling," she replies, nearly breathless. I lead her back to the TARDIS, to my own chambers where she has been only rarely. River has her own rooms aboard and usually I come to her when courting. But not tonight.

She gasps as she sees the sight, "you've tidied up! Well, that is quite a birthday gift. And look at the new linens you put up. Did you pick these out for me? I like it. You certainly know how to make a girl feel special."

"Not half as special as you are about to feel." And I lead her back to the bed and remove my jacket, palming the cuffs. As she lays back, I capture her left hand and lock it around the thin wooden post flanking the headboard."

"What are you…? Oh!" And she laughs a delightful laugh. "You actually kept those damn things? I thought I was rid of them when I left prison."

"Well, you know me, sentimentalist that I am." And she smirks a bit before breaking out into giggles and then a full-throated laugh. That is what I really live to hear. And I begin to undress, letting my tux fall into a puddle at my feet as I go to join her and share with her the last precious moments I never thought I'd ever have.

I am there for her, focused on her, whatever she wants, whatever she needs. The handcuffs come off at some point and she returns my gift of passion, the pair of us entwined as one. In the midst of it all she whispers my name into my ear over and over and it's sweeter than the song of the Singing Towers, sweeter than any other sound I can name. In reply, I tell her I love her, over and over. And as I finally join her in the finish, she quips, "My, aren't you a cold one."

"You've never complained before," I retort.

"And I never will. Thank you for the loveliest birthday ever," she says and kisses the dampness of my forehead.

"Good. I'm glad to hear that," I say, and I am. "May you have many more," I lie to her easily. At least this moment, this sweet, sweet moment that is already slipping away into the past, has been good. I sigh, and bury my face against he neck, hoping she won't see me swallowing back the pain of what foreknowledge costs you as a Time Lord. There is still time for the evening. And I spend it in her arms, gazing at her, talking with her, playing with her tousled hair. But at last, all of our energy is spent and we sleep, cuddled up together, wrapped in each other's arms. And nothing feels better. Nothing feels safer. And I accept the lies as truth for once and feel the vice around my hearts lift as I drift off to sleep, feeling like there will be more tomorrows, like tonight will never end.

But the night does end. And what passes for dawn comes to the TARDIS. I don't need as much sleep as humans do, and although River can keep pace with me rather well, she is still resting as I slip free and go off to shower. I'm torn for a moment, because I am reluctant to wash these last traces of our final night together away, but she deserves to have me at my best and I wash and freshen up, back in my usual red suspenders, tweed jacket, and bow-tie. Looking into the mirror I feel more like myself and able to face the day and what is to come.

I retrieve my sonic screwdriver from the jacket of the tux. Turning it over in my hands, I check it over with care. The dampeners are there, the settings are all working, and the neural relay lies hidden within it. Yes, I know what will happen to River in the Library. I know that the Felman Lux Corporation will approach her soon, well, soon by my standards, and she will take that final trip to the Library.

I steal a glance at her sleeping form and do the thing I've never done. I peek at her diary. I know all of it now, I've always wondered how she really saw me. It's the last chance I'll have to know. I hear her stir and say, "What are you doing, Sweetie?"

"Oh, just syncing up our diaries," I lie as I lift up my own.

"Waggling a finger at me she says, "Spoilers."

"I know," I say, and lean down to kiss her.

"So you're all dressed up already, I see. Are you sure we have to get out of bed so soon?"

And I look at her and consider things and realize that Time can wait a little longer. I strip off my jacket and let her strip of the rest. Life can be good again, for a little while.

But even those hours pass and finally she is back in her archaeologist's outfit and I in my slightly rumpled shirt and brown tweed jacket. I do my best to straighten it out. I did want this moment to be perfect, but realize that few final moments truly are. And I set the controls to carry us out into space, to see the vast array around us, and where I can see where Gallifrey once was. Reminders now, instead of spoilers. I bring River out to join me at the doors. There is a field around the TARDIS that makes it safe to stand with them open and even a step or two beyond.

"River, there is something I need you to do for me," I begin, gazing out at the warnings and promises of my lost home.

"Anything, my love," she answers.

I hang my head briefly. Those words, from my own wife, so precious. And now, so rare.

"There is a moment coming up where I'm going to need this," and I lay my sonic screwdriver in her hands, the one she helped me make, "and I won't have it. Mine will not be up to the task. I need you to take this for me and keep it safe until then."

I run a hand through my hair and look down at her to make sure she is listening. "You can use it as much as you like, but don't let anyone else touch it until you get it to me. And don't let my other self keep it. You have to keep a hold of it. Okay? This is very important, River."

Her wide, bright eyes gaze up into mine, their nearly aquamarine glow dimmed with seriousness. "I understand. This is why you were crying last night isn't it? I'm worried about you darling. But I will always love you, even if you regenerate."

My breath hitches. She's worried about me. I rest my hands on her arms and say, "Don't worry, I'll be fine." The truth at last. Or at least the truth about me, physically.

"I won't fail you," she says and kisses me gently.

"Of course you won't, River, you never have, and you never will."


End file.
